


The Price of Loyalty

by Scioneeris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood Magic, Dragons, Drama, F/F, F/M, Harem fic, Multi, Romance, emotional journey, generous use of blood as a medium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scioneeris/pseuds/Scioneeris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Harem!fic. Only a foolish person would turn down a bonding proposal to a Blood Dragon, especially when such opportunities only appear once every few centuries. One has visited Hogwarts and proposals have been issued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposal Scrolls

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Er, this is another dragon plot bunny in my head. I have no clue where it's going, but I need some space in my head, so I'm writing it out. It is a harem fic, featuring a female OMC (the blood dragon) and all other potential "mates", those that have received a proposal scroll. It will have some romance and adventure and should focus on the relationships between each character. For dragons, a "mate" doesn't necessarily mean "sex" it means a good friend and someone who will be a life partner to support them. ^_^
> 
> The title, Price of Loyalty, refers to the fact that there are certain stipulations in that proposal letter that will be required of the individual, in order to be fully accepted as a blood dragon's mate.
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Harry Potter anything. That belongs to J.K. Rowling and I make no money by writing this fanfic. I just like playing with Harry and dragons.

It is said that a Blood Dragon is a powerful and mythical creature.

It is said that a Blood Dragon's magic is so powerful it could rewrite the history of the world, if it so chose.

To be considered as a Blood Dragon's mate is a tremendous honor. An honor that would only appear once within certain a century.

It is said that a Blood Dragon's loyalty is for life.

It is said that a Blood Dragon's wrath is like the gates of hell smashed in.

It is said that a Blood Dragon will give its dying breath to protect that which it holds dear.

They also say that a Blood Dragon's heart is hard won and rarely broken.

But no matter what they all say, there is one thing that they all agree on.

To be loved by a Blood Dragon, is a love like no other, an experience with no comparison and a future beyond any individual's dreams.

But for a Blood Dragon to fall in love, they must be a very special kind of Dragon.

And for an individual of any race, creed or gender to be considered as a worthy mate—well, they would have to be just as special too, don't you think?

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

"Thank you for coming in," Albus Dumbledore greeted the tanned Italian. "Please have a seat, Mr. Zabini. Lemon drop?"

The Slytherin sat, warily and shook his head with a suspicious eye towards the candy dish.

"This is not some sort of twisted scheme, though I do understand you may have your own reservations. I only ask you to please inspect and consider this offer." The elderly wizard drew a sealed, golden scroll from the pile on his desk. "I have been instructed to hand out all of these to specific persons." He placed the scroll on the edge of the desk when the student made no move to take it. "As you may be aware, Hogwarts has had a longstanding agreement with the Protection of Magical Creatures Act, supported through the Australian wizarding community as a gesture of peace, in which, along with Beauxbaton's Academy, if there is a magical creature searching for a mate and has traced the signature to Hogwarts, we allow them to visit and submit a proposal to their intended."

Blaise Zabini looked from the slender scroll perched on the edge of the desk and then back up into the not-quite-twinkling blue eyes of the Hogwarts Headmaster. He reached over and took the scroll for the sake of hurrying up the meeting.

"Thank you." Dumbledore smiled. "I am asked to witness that you have read the contents within that scroll and you need not give me your answer, but only to follow the instructions contained within."

The violet-hued eyes darkened faintly, but Blaise broke the seal on the scroll and unrolled it with a steady hand. He skimmed the contents and his jaw slowly crunched into a rather locked position. When he was finished, he rolled it up and clenched it tight within one hand. "Thank you for affording me the opportunity." He said, stiffly.

"You are welcome." Dumbledore watched as the tall young man exited the office. He sighed, softly and reached for the next scroll and checked off one name on the list before him.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

"Thank you for coming in," Dumbledore greeted the dreamy Ravenclaw. "Please have a seat, Ms. Lovegood."

"It's a lovely day today, isn't it?" Luna smiled, warmly. "The Nargles told me you had something important to share."

"The Nargles?" Albus blinked. "Er, Lemon drop?"

"No thank you." Luna's smile softened and stretched across her lovely face. "That's okay. Not everyone can see them."

"Er, of course." Dumbledore quickly smoothed his face and fumbled for the classic smile that he usually kept around him at times like this. "Before I begin, please understand that you are not under any pressure to accept or decline. This is entirely your own decision. Do you understand?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Very well then." The elderly wizard drew a sealed, golden scroll from the pile on his desk. "I have been instructed to hand out all of these to specific persons." He extended his hand, one slender scroll of parchment sealed by a golden stamp with a drop of red in the center. "As you may be aware, Hogwarts has had a longstanding agreement with the Protection of Magical Creatures Act, supported through the Australian wizarding community as a gesture of peace, in which, along with Beauxbaton's Academy, if there is a magical creature searching for a mate and has traced the signature to Hogwarts, we allow them to visit and submit a proposal to court their intended."

"Thank you." Luna accepted the scroll and turned it over in her hands with an expression of interest.

"You are welcome." Dumbledore smiled. "I am asked to witness that you have read the contents within that scroll and you need not give me your answer, but only to follow the instructions contained within."

Pale grey eyes danced with excitement as Luna gently broke the seal on the scroll and unrolled it with an eager hand. She read the contents once and then twice and then a third time. She calmly rerolled the parchment and ran a hand through her white-blonde curls. "Thank you, Professor!" She said, cheerfully. "The Nargles say thank you as well."

"You are welcome." Dumbledore watched the happy young woman exit the office. "If only they could all be that easy..." He muttered to himself and reached for the next scroll to check off one more name on the list before him.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

"Severus, I was hoping you could spare the time." Dumbledore greeted the scowling Potions Master. "Tea, Lemon drop?"

"Just spit it out, Albus." Severus growled. "I do not have all day to waste on your inane natterings when there are-"

"It is just routine." Albus began. "You have not been singled out or-" He stopped at the glower directed at him. Sometimes Severus could say more with a glower than some witches and wizards could with an entire dictionary at their disposal. "Er, right." Dumbledore shifted his gaze. "Before I begin, please understand that you are not under any pressure to accept or decline. This is entirely your own decision. Do you understand?"

"Do not treat me like a child, Albus!" He roared.

"Very well then." The elderly wizard drew a sealed, golden scroll from the pile on his desk. "I have been instructed to hand out all of these to specific persons." He extended his hand, one slender scroll of parchment sealed by a golden stamp with a drop of red in the center. "You are aware of the peaceable contract between Hogwarts supported by Beauxbaton's for the magical creature allowance in searching for a mate?"

Severus grew rather still and rather pale in the same instance. He swallowed once and then his head snapped up, another formidable glare on his face. "This isn't funny!" He said, stiffly.

"I am not joking, Severus-"

"I make allowance for you, Albus, because-!"

"I am required to witness you reading the contents. You only have to follow the instructions contained within to accept or decline."

"I don't have to do anything!" Severus hissed, he started forward when a prickle of magic rippled through the office. His dark eyes narrowed. "You dare-!"

"Just take the scroll, Severus." The blue eyes hardened. "Take it. Read it. Then leave, if you're in such a hurry!"

So he did. The scowling, caged, Potions Master snatched the proffered scroll and ripped it open. His expert eyes took in every word and a moment later, he stiffened even more. He rolled it up and stashed it in the voluminous folds of his teaching robes. "You've witnessed it." He said, stiffly. "Good day." The wards crackled and shifted to allow him out. He left in the usual dramatic swirl of fury that was his trademark.

"You're welcome." Dumbledore murmured after him. He reached for the next scroll and checked off another name on the list before him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Ah, Miss Granger. Do come in, sit down." Dumbledore greeted the cautious witch. "Lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Professor Dumbledore." She said, politely.

"Alright then, before I begin, please understand that you are not under any pressure to accept or decline. This is entirely your own decision. Do you understand?"

"Professor?"

"I am required to inform you of such." Dumbledore smiled, holding up a hand to halt the flow of questions that seemed to be resting one the tip of her tongue. "All will be explained in a moment. Now," He drew a sealed, golden scroll from the shrinking pile on his desk. "I have been instructed to hand out these to specific persons." He extended his hand, one slender scroll of parchment sealed by a golden stamp with a drop of red in the center. "As you may be aware, Hogwarts has had a longstanding agreement with the Protection of Magical Creatures Act, supported through the Australian wizarding community as a gesture of peace, in which, along with Beauxbaton's Academy, if there is a magical creature searching for a mate and has traced the signature to Hogwarts, we allow them to visit and submit a proposal to court their intended."

Hermione Granger blinked in surprise. "I am here because of a marriage proposal?" There was a hint of doubt in her voice. "I do not think that my parents would approve of-"

"Ah, the age of consent for this particular proposal is from fourteen years of age and upwards." Dumbledore worked to keep the smile on his face even. "I urge you to consider this in all seriousness because some opportunities only come once in a lifetime." He wiggled the parchment until she took it with uncertain hands.

"I-I don't know."

"You need not answer to me." He said, pleasantly. "I am only required to witness you reading the contents. You only have to follow the instructions contained within to accept or decline and the decision remains personal or private at all times, from here on afterward."

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip and reluctantly broke the seal on the parchment before slowly reading the contents. A very deep blush colored her face at one point and then faded to an odd pallor by the time she finished. "Er, thank you, Professor." She managed, with a whisper.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore leaned forward.

"Fine, thank you." Hermione said, faintly. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon." Dumbledore returned. He watched her leave in a daze and hoped that she would be alright. He hadn't been expecting that reaction from her, but then a thought struck him and he sighed. "Muggle-borns…" He reached for the next scroll and checked off another name on the list before him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Mr. Weasley, come in." Dumbledore greeted the awkward redhead. "Have a seat."

"Er, I'm not in trouble or anything am I?" Ron wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his school robes. "Because if it's about what happened in Hagrid's class on Tuesday, I can explain. I don't really think it's necessary to get Mum involved and-"

"Do calm down, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore said, firmly. "Your mother is not present and this is not about whatever happened on…Tuesday. I have asked you here for a specific purpose and I am required to inform you that you are not under any obligations to accept or decline. This is entirely your own decision. Do you understand?"

"No!" Ron said, plainly. He scratched his head. "I'm not…in trouble?"

"Should you be in trouble, Mr. Weasley?"

The tips of his ears grew rather red and Ron looked down at his lap. "It's complicated, Professor."

"I see. Well then," the elderly wizard drew a sealed, golden scroll from the pile on his desk. "I have been instructed to hand out all of these to specific persons." He held up his hand, showing one slender scroll of parchment sealed by a golden stamp with a drop of red in the center. "You may or may not be aware that Hogwarts has a longstanding agreement with the Protection of Magical Creatures Act, supported through the Australian wizarding community as a gesture of peace, in which, along with Beauxbaton's Academy, law states that if there is a magical creature searching for a mate and has traced the magical signature their potential mate to Hogwarts, we will allow them to visit and submit a proposal to court their intended."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Bloody hell!" He managed. His hands grabbed at his hair and he tugged, hard. "I'm not dreaming am I?" He asked, frantically.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Not dreaming." He moaned.

"Mr. Weasley! Please get a hold of yourself." Dumbledore frowned in disapproval.

The expression on his face meant something to the young Gryffindor that immediately settled down and tucked his hands beneath his thighs, straightening up and sitting at attention. "Yes, sir. Sorry sir, er, Professor." He stammered.

"Thank you." Dumbledore extended his hand with the scroll and waited while Ron took it with a wavering hand.

"Er, Thanks." Ron licked his lips. "I don't suppose you know if it's like, a Veela or a, you know, Vampire or something, do you?" He asked, worriedly.

"I am not at liberty to say nor offer any opinion." Dumbledore informed him. "I am asked to witness that you have read the contents within that scroll and that you understand it is a legally binding contract."

"I know that." Ron gave a half-wave of his hand. His parents had explained those things to him when he'd turned fourteen. It was something all pureblooded families did. He wondered, briefly if Hermione knew about it. He shook his head. She knew everything.

"Ahem." Dumbledore waited until the young man looked up. "As I said, I need only to witness your reading of the proposal. You need not give me your answer, but only to follow the instructions contained within. You must follow them exactly."

Ron gulped.

Dumbledore perked a brow.

Ron gave a shaky smile and slowly broke the seal. He unrolled it with shaking hands and grew steadily paler with every line his eyes followed. When he finished, he let it reroll back in his hand and stared at it for a good long moment. "It's real, isn't it?" He had to ask.

Dumbledore sighed. "Mr. Weasley, if you are implying that I would be-"

"Er, no, sir, Professor." The Gryffindor stammered. "I just meant, wow." He sighed and then popped to his feet. "I ah, well, I guess I'd better go then. Thanks." And he bolted.

"You are welcome." Dumbledore called after him, watching as he scrambled for the stairway, the scroll clutched in his hand. "Odd one that Weasley." He muttered to himself and reached for the next scroll to check off one more name on the list before him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Minerva!" Albus greeted his deputy headmistress with his usual smile. "You look a bit, ah, tea?"

"Don't mind if I do." The witch seated herself with little ceremony and rubbed her eyes and then her forehead. "I swear Albus, is becomes more trying every year." Her accent began to slip into its native tint. "Every single year!"

"Er, right." Dumbledore quickly waved his wand for the tea tray and hurriedly poured her a cup, fixing it the way he knew she always took it. "Here you go. Biscuit?"

"I really shouldn't." She sighed.

He handed her two on the little saucer.

After a few silent moments, she straightened, reinvigorated. "Now, what was so important you had to send me an official summons? I saw you at lunch just a half-hour ago and you could have said something to-"

"I am required to send official summons." He sighed. "And please, don't interrupt, it would be best if you just-"

"Official summons?" Minerva frowned. "Albus," She said, warningly. "I don't like the way that you're-"

"Please understand that you are not under any pressure to accept or decline. This is entirely your own decision." Albus interrupted. "Please, Minerva, just listen."

Her lips pressed tightly together, but she did not interrupt.

Albus selected the second to last scroll on the desk and suspended it between two fingers. "I have been instructed to give these to specific persons." He extended his hand, one slender scroll of parchment sealed by a golden stamp with a drop of red in the center. "You know of Hogwarts agreement with the Protection of Magical Creatures Act, in accordance with Beauxbaton's Academy." He waited while she took the scroll with cautious fingers, as if expecting it to bite her. "With your acceptance of this scroll, I am only required to witness that you have read the contents. You need not give me your answer, but only to follow the instructions contained within."

Sharp eyes pierced through him with their expert glare before Minerva examined the scroll in her hand. She turned it over a few times, inspected the seal and then twisted it open with a flick of her wrist. She read through the scripted lines with a careful eye and an expression of sheer shock slowly painted itself across her features. She finished with a hand to her mouth and tear-filled eyes as she stared at her longest friend. "By Merlin, Albus!" She exclaimed. She drew in a deep breath and quickly composed herself, scrolling up the parchment and tucking it into the sleeves of her teaching robes, much as Severus had done. "Do you know?" She asked, rising from the chair.

Dumbledore half-shrugged. "I am not at liberty to say anything that might influence you." He smiled, unable to keep a slight quiver from his hand as he rose from his chair. "But I wish you all the happiness in the world."

For a moment, she seemed to glow twenty years younger, the smile on her face softening to something that the Headmaster had never seen on her face before. "Thank you, Albus."

"You are welcome." Dumbledore watched her leave. He bowed his head. Fawkes trilled sadly and the old wizard heaved a sigh. "One more left, Fawkes." He murmured. "One more left. She deserves it you know, if anyone does, she did. I will miss her." He chuckled as Fawkes trilled again. "Oh no, Fawkes, age has nothing to do with it. She will go. I believe they all will." He reached for the final scroll and gave a bittersweet smile. "But I will miss her."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Ah, Harry my boy." Dumbledore greeted the weary Gryffindor. "Come in, have a seat. Tea? Lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Sir." Harry swallowed, perching nervously on the end of the proffered chair. "Is something the matter? Has something happened?" His brow furrowed together. "You've never sent official summons before, has Vold-"

"Calm down, Harry. This has nothing to do with…that. It is something entirely…different." Dumbledore sighed. "Are you sure you do not want a cup of tea?"

"I'm fine."

"Alright. This is an important, official meeting, legal in the eyes of the international wizarding community." Dumbledore began. Harry stiffened. "It is entirely legal and to be sure that there are no interferences in what is a rather delicate matter. Before I begin, please do understand that you are not under any pressure to accept or decline. This is entirely your own decision. Do you understand?"

"No sir."

"You have nothing to fear."

"I'm not…scared, Professor."

"Then, you have nothing to worry about." Dumbledore amended. "I have been instructed to hand these out to specific persons within Hogwarts." He extended his hand, one slender scroll of parchment sealed by a golden stamp with a drop of red in the center. "Hogwarts has had a longstanding agreement with the Protection of Magical Creatures Act, supported through the Australian wizarding community as a gesture of peace, which, in accordance with Beauxbaton's Academy, states that if there is a magical creature searching for a mate and has traced the signature to Hogwarts, we will allow them to visit and submit a proposal to court their intended." He waved the scroll. "Take it, Harry. Nothing will go wrong by taking it."

Harry reluctantly did so.

"Now, I am asked to witness that you have read the contents within that scroll and nothing more. You need not give me your answer, but only to follow the instructions contained within. If you were unaware, the age of consent for these types of matches begin at age fourteen. You are two years over the majority." Dumbledore smiled, gently. "and as I said earlier, you are under no obligation to accept or decline, you must answer however you feel to be about it."

Harry stared at him, green eyes pleading.

Dumbledore swallowed. "I'm afraid, once a name is given, I cannot refuse the one proposing. I must carry out all requirements and do so in a legal and official manner." His voice softened. "Read the scroll, Harry. I am sure it will explain things."

So Harry did.

Then he numbly rolled it back up and stared at Dumbledore with those same, vacant green eyes.

"How?" He said, hoarsely. "How can anyone be expected to make a decision like-"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I am not allowed to speak of this in fear that I might influence you unduly in some way or another."

"So you're just going to throw this on me and then tell me to leave?" Harry scoffed. "My life…" He muttered.

"Harry-"

"No. Just…no." Harry was on his feet and out of the office.

Dumbledore watched him leave and then buried his head on his arms on the desk. "This is a lonely and taxing position, Fawkes." The phoenix trilled sadly.


	2. Luna's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna Lovegood is the first one to respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY: Dumbledore handed out proposal scrolls from a magical creature(a Blood Dragon) to several individuals, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

Luna made up her mind after dinner.

Classes were over and there was some time before curfew. She'd thought about the letter since she'd left the Headmaster's offer. She would accept it. There was no reason not to and absolutely no hesitation to think of what her future might bring. She smiled, dreamily, thinking of a future where her shoes where right where she left it and the chance to see exotic creatures in their natural habitat.

It sounded like fun.

There was also the promise of affection, readily given, and all her needs more than adequately provided for. The issue of her schooling was not to be an issue at all and emancipation was promised if her father did not give permission. Luna shook her head at that. She knew he would. In fact, he'd be thrilled that she'd received the proposal and even happier if she accepted on her own.

A soft blush dusted her cheeks as her mind detoured towards a less innocent aspect of her marriage proposal.

Er, yes.

There would definitely be fun involved and there was the promise of love.

That was more than enough.

With her mind made up, Luna turned her attention back to her plate and was grateful for her ability to keep her face as blank and expressionless as possible. Her classmates had been playing with her dinner again and the unappetizing mess staring back up at her didn't look very edible at all. She was careful to scoop up a forkful as if she hadn't noticed anything and silently banished it as her lips closed around the fork.

It was a necessary trick for survival.

She pretended to chew and swallow, without any trouble and then sighed, slowly standing and gathering her bookbag. Now that her mind was made up there was no need to wait any further. Without a backward glance, she was up and out of the Great Hall.

There were more important things to be done.

 

Luna skipped up to the Ravenclaw quarters and answered the riddle given at the door. She stepped inside the tastefully decorated room and smiled as she took one last final look around them. The letter was held carefully in her hand as she drew her wand from behind her ear and started up the stairs. A moment later, she backed down, quickly and stood the side as her fellow Ravenclaws came down from their dorms.

She was careful to keep out of their way and when she was sure they weren't quite paying attention to her, she glided up the stairs and slipped into the room she shared with the other girls. Her bed was in the far corner and her usual trunk at the base of it. She hurried over and took quick stock of what was there. Most of her stuff was missing, but that was to be expected.

With a whispered spell, she summoned what she could remember and decided to leave that which she could not recall.

Her next order of business was to speak to Professor Flitwick.

That, she was both dreading and looking forward to.

Pausing, once she was finished, Luna found a quill and unrolled the proposal letter. She skimmed over the scripted words as it drew a smile to her face once more. Then, with a grimace, she pricked her finger and dipping the quill in the resulting bead. With a practiced hand, she scribbled a few lines and waited.

The parchment hummed to life, a golden glow settling over it as her words disappeared and a new line appeared.

For several minutes, Luna conversed with her new spouse-to-be via enchanted parchment. The written conversation ended, leaving Luna with a smile on her face as she straightened up and shrunk all her belongings and the trunk, before placing it in her pocket. She slipped down the stairs once more and then made her way to the hidden door in the corner of the Ravenclaw common room.

At one point, she felt Padma Patil's eyes following her every move and turned to flash a bright smile over her face. The Indian girl tilted her head to the side, but didn't give any further acknowledgment.

Within seconds, Luna popped the door open and disappeared down the short passageway. She knocked when she reached the other end and after a moment, heard Professor Flitwick's voice from within.

"Good evening, professor." Her voice was cheery and light.

"Miss Lovegood." He greeted, looking up from the thick stack of papers atop his desk. "How can I help you?"

"I came to say goodbye." She offered a short curtsy. "I wanted to thank you for taking good care of me through all these years."

The short professor blinked. "Er, pardon?" He hadn't heard anything of anyone leaving. "Is your father ill?"

"Father? No, he is fine." She looked thoughtful for a moment and then held up the rolled scroll. "I have received a proposal and I am accepting it."

Understanding dawned at once, along with a small stab of sadness. Professor Flitwick stood up, tempering his expression as he smiled down at the young woman. "Congratulations, then." He said carefully. "I look forward to your return."

Here, the blonde's smile dimmed, faintly. "I will not be returning." She said, softly. "That is why I came to say goodbye." The smile brightened again and she stared off to a corner of the ceiling, before fingering her butterbeer cap necklace. "Please beware of the Nargles." He deserved a fair warning, she was sure.

"You are not returning? But your education-"

"Is now over." She finished smoothly. "Thank you for everything, Professor." With a bob of her head, she turned and fled.

Professor Flitwick recovered enough to hurry out after her, only to find the hallway empty. He rubbed his head with his hands and then immediately took off towards Dumbledore's office. Luna Lovegood had certainly been quite a mysterious and odd student in her own right, but of all the unusual things she'd ever done, this was the first that truly worried him.

 

Luna ran soundlessly through the carpeted walkways of Hogwarts. She'd kept track of the time and there was only one person she really did wish to say goodbye to, other than Professor Flitwick. The scroll was safely tucked away within the folds of her school robes and her wand behind her ear, where she liked it to be. Her feet carried her quickly and she soon stood in front of the Gryffindor common room and smiled politely at the Fat Lady. "I would like to speak to Harry Potter, please." She requested.

"Password." The portrait retorted.

"I do not know it, but if you could please tell him that Luna Lovegood would like to-"

The Fat Lady sniffed at her and after a moment, waved her hand in the background.

A moment later, the door swung open and a Gryffindor Prefect blinked down at her. "A Ravenclaw?" He muttered.

"Is Harry in?" Luna made no move to enter the red and gold colored space. "I'd like to talk to him. Please." She added, as an afterthought at the skeptic look on the prefect's face.

The words were relayed and a moment later, a somewhat flushed Herimone Granger slipped out into the hallway. "Luna." The smile was forced. "Is there something wrong?"

"I only wanted to talk to Harry." The blonde said, simply.

"Er, he's holed up in his room right now. In a bit of a snit." The bushy-haired witch nibbled on her lower lip. "Sorry, I'll tell him you were here…?"

"That's alright. Just tell him thank you." With a bob of her head, Luna spun on her heel and skipped off.

Her skip nearly wavered at the end of the corridor, but she made sure to turn the corner, before she settled into a walk. The expression on her face slipped a few degrees more serious than the blank mask that she usually wore. She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, softly.

A visit to the owls was next, her father deserved to know.

 

She sat on the edge of the astronomy tower, waiting. There were a few scant minutes left within the hour and her betrothed had promised to be there, promptly. Luna fiddled with the colorful silk ribbons in her hand. She'd been braiding it to make a bracelet for her intended. It was nothing fancy, just a simple twist of brightly colored cords, with a charm from an old earring tucked in the center.

She hoped it would be well received.

A sudden rush of wind made her look up, as the shadows of the day dawned.

Night was coming quickly.

 

A rustle behind her had the young witch whirling, her wand already in hand, aimed at the shadowed figure gliding forward from where there'd been nothing before. She relaxed a moment later, at the spoken password, "Asuelia."

"Asuelia." Luna replied. "and hello." She curtsied as it was nearly habit by now.

"Luna." The name was spoken with a soft touch and a hint of interest. "I did not expect someone to accept so soon."

Luna smiled, hoping the sudden, stabbing pain in her chest, did not somehow show on her face. Was that how her acceptance had come across? But before she could speak further, strong arms wrapped around her, crushing her to a soft, warm chest.

"I am glad." The scent of pine and lavender wrapped around them both. "You formally accept?"

Luna squeezed her eyes shut. "I formally accept." She was held at arm's length and for a long, terribly silent moment, nothing happened.

Then soft, cool lips pressed chastely to hers. "And I accept you, as my mate." The kiss was repeated, this time, more intimately.

Luna gave a quiet gasp as they parted. Her hand inadvertently traveled up to touch her lips and then was captured by one of her intended's. She watched as her hand was brought to those lips and a caress given in return. A tingle of magic sparked between them and a sudden, heady rush of power flooded through her. She grabbed the hand holding her, grateful as she was steadied.

The magical bindings happened at once, a sudden flash of gold at her wrists, a burning at her ankles and throat. Luna saw the flash of visible energy before the glowing golden band on her wrist faded away. A rush of wind blew through the platform once more and this time, in the visibility of the dimming light, she caught sight of that beautiful face.

Slender, angular and not really all that feminine or masculine, high cheekbones, sloping brows and a thin, curved lips, set in a face that promised the possibility of everything. The eyes were dark and burning with a strange intensity behind them. The ears were high and pointed, like the elves' with several hooped earrings through the sides. Her hair was long and dark, fanning out behind her with the night wind. She wore a long, thick coat, with a flared waist and many dark buttons along the front, the rest of her outfit hidden in the shadows.

Luna stared as those lips curved into a warm smile. She was lucky. At least this dragon didn't look like a horrible beast. She silently thanked the "Samara…" she tried the name out, rolling it on her tongue.

"Luna." Samara returned. She cocked her head to the side, listening and then without warning, bent and swooped up the young witch in her arms. "Do pardon my forwardness so soon." She murmured, gliding forward.

"It is likely the teachers on patrol." Luna offered, helpfully, giving a little wriggle, pleased that the arms holding her were strong and sure. "They search for students out after curfew."

Samara smirked. "I suppose then, it would be best if we were not caught, hmm? Hold on tight."

Luna reached up, locking her arms around that slender neck, her fingers ghosting over the metal of fine jewelry and she snuggled close, uncaring at the way her new partner had easily picked her up, without any effort at all. "Do I get a ring?" She whispered in one pointed ear.

There was a light chuckle as Samara leapt forward and off the edge of the tower. "As soon as we land." She promised. There was a quiet snap as leathery wings unfolded and the wind rushed around them all.

"You can look, if you like." Samara coaxed, a few minutes later.

Luna turned her head to the side, squinting through the rushing wind, she stared downwards at the lights of Hogsmeade and such below them. A rush of emotion welled up inside her and she tamped it down, mentally pushing it away. She didn't want to deal with that now or ever. Her grip tightened and she buried her face back in that warm neck.

The arms cradling her close, tightened in gentle reassurance.


	3. Harry's Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry can't believe his luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY: Dumbledore handed out proposal scrolls from a magical creature(a Blood Dragon) to several individuals, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Luna has accepted her letter and left that very night, when Samara arrived

When Harry made it to the Gryffindor common room, his heart felt like it would pound out of his chest, from the sheer, frantic beats it thumped out. He made his way through the usual tangle of students and headed straight for the stairs, nearly tripping over Ron.

"Harry, mate?" The redhead cast a worried glance at him and then quickly looked away. "Calling it a night already?"

Harry shrugged.

"Yeah. Think I might too." Ron yawned and shuffled forward.

"Harry?" Hermione popped up beside him, her brow furrowed into a knot. "What's the matter? You hardly ate anything at dinner and you're going to be early?" She frowned. "Are you feeling okay?" She leaned in, closer. "You look a bit pale. What did Dumbledore want?"

Harry sighed. "Just something he wanted to share." He shrugged. "What about you two? He called you both, didn't he?"

"Ah, it was nothing really, ah," Ron shrugged. "Nothing to worry about. I don't think."

"What did he say?" Hermione demanded, hands on her hips. "All he told me was something about a marriage contract. I'm too young for that sort of thing and I'm not interested."

Both boys turned to look her, one in mild confusion and the other in muted horror.

"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron muttered. "Did you refuse already?"

"What?"

"Shh." He grabbed her arm and propelled her to a quieter corner of the common room, with a sudden glare at Harry for him to follow as well. "Tell me you didn't refuse, I mean, you do know about it, right?"

"Know about what?" Hermione jerked her arm. "Marriage contracts, yes! But that's so old-fashioned! Things aren't like that now and it isn't even—can you let go of my arm now?"

"Sorry." He released her, almost at once. "I just meant, well, it's not really that old. In the muggle world, maybe, but here, it's pretty commonplace and a proposal from a Blood Dragon." His tone dropped almost reverently. "That's a once in a lifetime deal." He ran a hand through his red curls. "Mum'll be thrilled right through the roof."

"You're accepting?" Hermione stared at him. The faintest stab of pain seemed to originate somewhere in her chest and she swallowed hard. Her and Ron…that was something that may or may not have worked out, but it seemed that now, for sure, she would never know. Never. There was something eerily frightening about that note of finality. "It's a…dragon. A real life…dragon." Hermione swallowed, a faintly sick feeling in her stomach. There'd certainly been a lot of things she'd learned since coming into the wizarding world, but there were some things she didn't know whether she could stomach or not. No matter which way you painted this, itw as a dragon! "…and you've never even met her and-"

"That sort of thing isn't something to...worry about." Ron blushed. "I mean well, you're a girl, so I guess you could worry but-"

"You're accepting?" Harry found himself echoing as he stared at Ron. He was trying and failing to comprehend that his two best friends had been asked as well. For a moment, he'd felt a burst of happiness and then a sudden feeling of dread had registered. If his friends accepted and he did too…how would that even work? His mind whirled and he wearily rubbed his forehead.

"You're not?" Ron countered, bluntly. "It's a good opportunity and…" he hesitated. "It'd be nice if you did." He looked to Hermione. "Nice if both of you did." He blushed, furiously. "Er, not in that way, but you know. It'd be good. It's…I wouldn't be turning it down." He said, at last.

"You'll need your parents' permission." Hermione retorted. "And what's so great about it?"

Ron sighed. "Do you know anything about them?"

Hermione's face grew rather red. "I, well, that's not the point!" She said, huffily. "There's hardly anything in the library about them!"

"Because they are private creatures and like it that way." Ron countered. His friend stared at him. He blushed. "What? It's a…thing. My folks talked about it."

Harry swallowed. He'd already half-made up his mind then. "Right. I ah, I'm going up." He managed a smile and pulled away. Ron looked as if he were about to follow him when Harry caught sight of Hermione's distressed face. He sent Ron a look and the redhead sighed, before turning back to their mutual friend. If he tried to help, he wasn't sure how he'd fare just then.

This felt like a dream.

A dream that was too good to be true.

* * *

In the confines of his curtained bed, Harry pulled out the rolled parchment and reread it with shaking hands. Happy tears coursed down his cheeks as he considered the validity and then threw all rational thought to the wind as he hugged the scrap of parchment to his chest.

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity that he'd never thought could be his.

He'd heard rumors a few years back. It had caught his ear when he hadn't expected it, but because it had been interesting, he'd done some checking on his own. He held the parchment back in his hands, considering and rereading and deciding that it was good.

It was good.

The promise of love, well, more so the promise of affection, readily given, and all his needs provided for. School wouldn't be an issue, if he didn't want it to be, he was welcome to wait it out, if he wanted, but, if he wanted to quit now, it was promised that his learning need not end as well. It would all be taken care of.

The Parchment promised.

Harry tilted backwards until he flumped onto his pillow and stared up at the covered canopy top. He was relieved, honestly. There was a possibility he might live to see his next birthday now, that he might have some happiness in his life beyond what dismal offerings he'd been subjected to, that there might even be something to enjoy.

Something that didn't require him to feel like he was selling his soul so the rest of the world could be free.

He gave a somewhat trembly smile, pressing his lips together to stem the swiftly welling emotions.

That was more than enough.

It only remained now, how he was to get away. Hermione and Ron wouldn't be the first ones to cry in outrage if he were to suddenly up and disappear—no, wait, it wasn't any of their business. If they accepted their own proposals then they'd all meet up with each other at some point. That was their choice. This was his. Some things simply had to happen a certain way and this was one of them. If he was leaving, then he'd do it when he was ready and on his own terms.

It wasn't anyone's business.

Not even Dumbledore's.

Harry sat up in a hurry and reached for his bookbag he'd thrown at the foot of the bed. He rummaged through it for a quill and then pricked his finger on the sharp tip without a second thought. He dipped the quill in the resulting bead and carefully wrote his reply at the bottom of the blank section on the parchment. He waited while the blood seemed to glow as crimson ink and faded away as the parchment hummed to life, a golden glow settling over.

A moment later, a new line appeared.

Relief trickled through him and for the next minutes, Harry conversed with his new spouse-to-be via enchanted parchment. He asked questions and received simple, point-blank answers, with absolutely no hidden meanings. It gave way to budding respect for this individual he had yet to meet.

Eventually, he worked out a suitable arrangement.

He'd be gone by tomorrow night.

For a few precious minutes, he'd considered saying goodbye and then he'd stopped himself, just barely. He might miss Neville, the boy had a way of keeping situations in perspective, he might miss Seamus—the boy never stopped trying to play up his Irish heritage and he often brought laughter along with him, even Dean, might be missed, Harry reasoned.

Lots of things.

Lots of people.

Professor McGonagall. His head of house. He swallowed hard. He ought to say goodbye to her, at least. She had always been fair—mostly, kind of—and in her own way, she'd done what she thought and knew was best.

 _I'll write a note_ , he decided, at last. _One for Luna too, for all I know she probably knows I'm leaving already…_

Burrowing down beneath the covers, he yawned, exhausted.

He'd given so much, it seemed. So much to the cause for the greater good, from his life and what little he didn't have—Sirius and Cedric, for starters and now, yes, now, perhaps this was what he needed. He wouldn't abandon them—maybe, but he wasn't about to start chasing after a Dark Lord without a plan of action or some decent training.

Really decent training.

With those thoughts in mind, the tired brunet gave into the coaxing slumber.

Tomorrow was sure to be interesting.


	4. Severus' Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Potions Master checks and double checks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY: Dumbledore handed out proposal scrolls from a magical creature(a Blood Dragon) to several individuals, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Luna has accepted her letter and left that very night, when Samara arrived. Harry has made plans to leave the following night.

Severus Snape all but flew to the safety of his dungeons the moment he'd been 'released' from the old wizard's machinations. It hadn't surprised him that Dumbledore had thought to use a spell to keep him there to read the blasted letter, but after reading the contents, he was more inclined to blow the old fool's head off.

It was a cruel, cruel joke.

He crushed the scroll in one fist.

If there had been rumors of a true blood dragon, surely he would have heard and known firsthand of it. His eyes always watched, his ears always heard. How could something of this magnitude escape him?

But, if it was real, if there was even the slightest possible hope that it was real, then he would most certainly accept.

Certainly accept.

Such an opportunity would surely never come again in his lifetime. Declining would never be a conceivable option. He could not afford to let this go, not without some investigation and careful thought though. If it was meant to be a prank—a cruel one at that—then he'd be sure to make the ones responsible, pay.

And if it wasn't…then perhaps fate had decided to spare him this once.

Perhaps.

* * *

Severus Snape did not sleep that night.

He did not show up for patrol duty either.

He stayed up in his private lab, brewing a special potion to test the validity of the letter through the magical signature cast on the parchment.

It was his only thought.

* * *

In the wee hours in the morning, when the potion was completed, Severus tested the parchment and nearly fell to the floor in relief and disbelief when the result came back. He managed to stand for several minutes, cluching the parchment in trembling hands.

It was one hundred percent valid and authentic.

He sank to the floor and unable to release the tested scrap of parchment, his shaking, potion-stained fingers, a stark white contrast to the honeyed golden hue with soft pink streaks, denoting the proposal as real.

It was real! By Merlin, it was real!

An ache deep in his soul seemed to cry out as he sat on the cold floor, holding the scroll to his chest and staring at the cabinets along the room with unseeing eyes. This would be a dream, were it not so very real. He had tested his dream theory already—before he'd begun brewing the potion. He was awake. The result was real. It was beyond his wildest expectations and imaginations.

He almost cried.

Almost.

* * *

It was during breakfast that he was able to better process the entirety of the proposal letter. It spoke that there would be others. He worried—briefly—but that was not too great a sacrifice when he considered the reward in it. Yes, he was a jealous and possessive man, learning to share a lover would tax him a great deal, for it was certain to affect him in some way or another.

But perhaps, he could—he _would_ —restrain himself. There was too much to be gained from such a union of magic and might. His tortured mind had wrestled him between a madman and a self-declared saint for the past years. Surely it could handle the attentions of a lover shared amongst others. To keep himself together was a task he'd managed for years, a few decades at least. His only hardships would be managing to maintain a careful friendship between himself and the other mates.

Yes, that would indeed be his only hardship, for he was not a man prone to frivolously indulging himself in every potential friendship, relationship or acquaintanceship that came his way—unless of course, there was something to be gained from it. He prided himself on making worthy connections and retaining useful people. It had certainly helped to elevate him in the eyes of either of his masters.

The Potion Master's dark-eyed glower swept through the Great Hall while he picked at his customary breakfast. His gaze flickered over at his Slytherins and he felt a faint pang of sadness. He would have to make arrangements for them before he left. It pained him to do so, but he could not give up this opportunity and even though it promised that he could take his time, beyond the initial acceptance, he did not truly wish to wait.

Accepting the proposal would surely negate Albus' hold on him and his first order of business would be to ask his new mate about removing the cursed mark on his arm. Blood Dragon magic was old, rare and even more powerful, it was said, than ancient magic herself. Yes, he would definitely accept this proposal if only for the chance to have this blasted tattoo removed!

Perhaps Aurora Sinestra could take over as Head of House. She handled herself well and had been mostly competent in her handlings with his little snakes. He worried mostly for the younger ones, those who did not know yet who and how to trust, or whether they could dare to be their own person. He always tried his best with them, especially as they were in his care, but he had always been discreet about it.

What happened between Slytherins, stayed between them. It was one reason he could command respect along with loyalty among his snakes, more than a mere fear in their hearts as the renowned 'bat of the dungeons'. Severus took a long drink of his barely-sweetened black coffee. The proposal had mentioned traveling through the wilderness. He was already thinking of potential potions ingredients.

His almost smile was hidden in his cup. His attention shifted over to the Golden Trio. Hermione Granger was somewhat better in looks and appearances this year around, she'd managed to tame her hair into a somewhat manageable mass of curls and while her nose still remained perpetually buried in a book, her eating habits improved and her handwriting had become clearer. It was a simple detail that allowed him to know that she was changing and growing as most of the older students did during these final years at Hogwarts. He supposed it made her more tolerable—maybe. Her original impression of an insufferable know-it-all was still etched firmly in his mind.

As for the redheaded Weasley menace, Severus found himself not quite as despairing as his original impression of yet another Weasley brat. The teen still retained his usual loud mouth and not-quite-elegance, but he was less clumsy and less opt to stick his foot in his own mouth. It was enough of an improvement that Severus had taken note of it. He knew the boy had an excellent strategic mind, all the Weasleys had some notable skill or the other, if they ever thought to seek it out and bring it to a workable point in their lives.

With those two out of his thoughts, Severus then took note of the somewhat tamed head of bushy hair that made up the bane of his existence, a singular Harry Potter. Granted, the brat may have improved in some things over time and due to stringent circumstances, but he had yet to really manage a civil conversation with the teen. Something about the green-eyed idiot always rubbed him the wrong way.

Severus huffed and looked away for a moment to draw his customary cloak of composure around himself. He was lucky then. He'd be able to escape from being in Potter's presence for three-quarters of the year. That was a wonderful thought indeed.

A strange thought niggled in the back of his mind and for a moment, the Potions Master froze in terror at the idea that perhaps, with his manic magical power, Potter might be a candidate for the Blood Dragon as well. He shook himself a moment later, dismissing the thought—wearily. He was a fairly powerful wizard in his own right and not just for his knowledge of light and dark arts. The Prince line had always carried strong magic and his own inheritance in his teens had been an admirable gift. He had taken great pains to hide his newfound strength from his peers since the very week his inheritance had come.

It would seem that his discretion had served him well.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye reminded him that Minerva had been stealing glances at him all morning. Perhaps he'd slipped somewhere and allowed his good fortune to show. Hmph. That certainly would _not_ do. He set his scowl firmly in mind, knowing it was in place when a Hufflepuff first year squeaked in his approach to the table to speak to Pomona.

Ah. That was certainly a nice reaction.

With that nearly cheerful thought in mind, Severus set off for the first class of the day.


	5. Minerva's Musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter one for warnings/disclaimer/summaries. Every chapter will focus on a different character, i.e. (Luna, Severus, Harry, etc.)
> 
> PREVIOUSLY: Dumbledore handed out proposal scrolls from a magical creature(a Blood Dragon) to several individuals, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Luna has accepted her letter and left that very night, when Samara arrived. Harry has made plans to leave the following night. Ron and Hermione have not decided as yet. Severus spent the night testing the authenticity of the letter before deciding that he will accept.

 

Severus was in a wonderful mood, Minerva noted.

That was so rare, she couldn't help staring a few times in a row. It was so—un-Severus that she didn't know how to properly process it. Even in his school days, she had to admit that she had never really seen the boy-turned-man smile. Not even when he was with Lily. It had always come out something of a smirk, yet, this morning, there was something decidedly brighter about him.

Oh yes, he was still clad in his standard brewing robes of everlasting black, but Merlin help her, the man had smiled into his coffee cup. Minerva took a hasty gulp of scalding tea to hide her shock, wincing when it burned its way down her throat. She gave a reproachful glare at the steaming, brown liquid and opted to stir another two cubes of sugar into the brew.

That small, barely visible if at all smile, had completely transformed the dour man's menacing expression. The furrows in his forehead had evened out accordingly, the pinched lips had relaxed—not curled into a sneer or twisted into a smirk—and those black eyes. Those fathomless black eyes that held such secrets within them, they had glittered.

Glittered in much the same disturbing way as another lemon-drop-obsessed wizard had a habit of twinkling. She would be absolutely blind not to read the strong, vibrant waves of magic rippling off of him—yes, they were quite tightly restrained and constrained—but she was a witch of respectable caliber, thank you very much, and she could tell when a spike in personal magic was tied directly back to a strong emotional response.

That was how it helped to make spontaneous transfigurations—not that she ever explained that to anyone—it was best if they thought her talent was pure genius and did not question it. Such examples also meant that there would be less accidents and that was always good. After all, her students knew her to be strict, but fair and though they held a healthy amount of respect and a mild inkling of fear, it was absolutely nothing on Severus's terrifying reputation.

In all honesty, she couldn't even remember how the Potions Master had come about it, now that she tried to think of it. He had always worn black since she had known him, muttering once about how economical it was when it came to brewing mishaps, but she wasn't quite inclined to believe him on that note. Admittedly, the black did suit him, even if it did enhance his sometimes severe countenance. He was all pale, tall and sharp angles that would have caught the eyes of young witches everywhere if it wasn't for his hooked beak of a nose and the thick, limp curtains of hair that hide his sharply angled cheekbones.

Of course, if one really wanted to fall in love with Severus Snape, Minerva mused, they had only to listen to the man's masterful voice. Dark as night, soft as velvet and thick as death. A voice that could torture you in the most delicious of ways while prompting fantasies of delightfully forbidden things.

Minerva blinked when Pomona jostled her elbow and was immediately jerked out of her mental roundabout. "Er, sorry, dear." She managed, leaning across to pass the salted biscuits.

Pomona flashed a cheerful smile and murmured her own words of politeness, before returning her attention to her breakfast.

Minerva felt her stomach knot and twist in a way that was vaguely familiar. She knew this feeling. It sprouted every time she dared to think of upsetting her neatly ordered life and seeking something different, something more exciting and less routine. She pressed her lips together and toyed with her mismatched English muffins. They were evenly toasted, but she didn't want to think of those yet.

She was too busy realizing that if she should accept, then it would be some time before she could ever lay eyes on her friends again. Friends that she'd made years ago, friends that were now colleagues in their own rights. Friends like Poppy, Rolanda, Pomona and Flitwick. Minerva took a shaky sip of tea to wash down the sudden flare of emotion.

Friends like Albus.

Her fingers tightened along the slender handle of the delicate china teacup. She did not want to think of this, oh no, she did not. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all!

Why couldn't she be like Severus? A man with no attachments to anywhere without—and her thoughts came to screeching halt as she backtracked and processed the statement again. Would she miss him if she left? She didn't know. The man was certainly, snarky, prickly, sarcastic and aggravating in the very worst of ways.

He was also very dedicated to his Snakes, as she was to her Lions and the rivalry between their houses had never come to anything beyond some amusing wagers and refreshing verbal spars.

Her heart sank.

She snuck another sideways glance at her colleague. She'd slept on her proposal, knowing that a night of sleep often made things clearer in the morning and she was relieved to think it through again in the morning to find that her mind had not changed at all. In fact, there wasn't the faintest twinge of regret that she had made the wrong decision.

Until now.

Now that she had confirmed it, the only thing that hung over her was the realization that she would truly be leaving absolutely everything behind. Everything that she had grown to love and hate, it would be pointless, almost. She would be thrust into a new environment, bonded into a new relationship and embarking on Merlin-knew-what.

This was thrilling, life-changing and…special. In one way or another.

Minerva covered another covert glance at Severus by way of taking a long drink of tea. It had cooled enough for her to drink it quite comfortably and the extra sweetener had helped. She noted that there were a few shadows on his haggard, shielded face, hinting that perhaps the genius potions master had decided to stay up brewing all night—again.

However, instead of appearing as grouchy and irritable as he usually would though, there was a faint gleam of light, suggesting that he was in rather good humors for the day. Minerva wondered at that, thinking and failing to find a connection between yesterday and the new morning. Perhaps she was simply reading into things, after all, a spike in personal magic didn't really have to mean anything significant, did it?

The thought had nearly settled when Severus's face suddenly grew impassive. Minerva watched with sharp eyes as he slipped into his usual scowl and half-terrified an approaching Hufflepuff, aiming for Pomona. The elderly witch stabbed at her breakfast with one shiny fork. She didn't know what had gotten into him, but on second thought, perhaps she didn't want to. Whatever it was, she had her own things to think and worry over.

And she had goodbyes to make.


	6. Blaise's Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter one for warnings/disclaimer/summaries. Every chapter will focus on a different character, i.e. (Luna, Severus, Harry, etc.)
> 
> PREVIOUSLY: Dumbledore handed out proposal scrolls from a magical creature(a Blood Dragon) to several individuals, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Luna has accepted her letter and left that very night, when Samara arrived. Harry has made plans to leave the following night. Ron and Hermione have not decided as yet. Severus spent the night testing the authenticity of the letter before deciding that he will accept and reviews the changes this will bring to his life over breakfast. Minerva has decided to accept her proposal after thinking about it overnight. She notices Severus is in a good mood, but tunes him out, thinking of what she must do before she can accept.

 

Blaise folded and unfolded the scrap of parchment that held one of the most fascinating proposals that he'd ever encountered in his Slytherin life. He had the feeling this was one of those once in a life time type of opportunies and it had him wondering just where his life was headed now. He could accept, yes, but something told him to wait and see.

Second, he had already given something of a personal promise and pledge to the one person no one would have ever expected him to. Draco Malfoy. Sure, the Malfoy heir had been bethrothed to a certain Pansy Parkinson, but word had it that Lady Malfoy had suffered some slight through Lady Parkinson and that marriage contract would be dissolved.

In the wake of comforting his distraught and very drunk housemate, Blaise had wound up becoming intimately acquainted with the childlike figure and deceptively cunning young blond. Draco had more masks than perhaps, even their Head of House, Severus Snape, did. He played the arrogant prat to astonishing perfection, the perfect, noble, haughty son to his father, the loving, composed son to his mother, the doting, occasionally irritated boyfriend to Pansy, the aloof Slytherin prince to the rest of them—but never, of course, his true self.

That night, Blaise had drawn it out of him and to ease the shock of waking sober the next day—had somehow managed to bind themselves together in the midst of the drunken revelry. He clearly remembered waking up to a steel blade pressed against the softness of his throat and feeling his magic thrum angrily in response when he'd opened indigo eyes to see Draco's furious grey ones.

The conversation that had followed surely wasn't fit for polite company—or a full stomach. It had taken a few hours, yelling, magical explosions and finally—thanks to some prefect—Severus Snape's silken threats of dismemberment and discreet torture, before something had been sorted out. He still didn't know what the dour man had told his godson, but Draco had then returned, perfectly composed, dripping with disdain and thoroughly back in his element.

Blaise idly folded the parchment once more and slowly rolled it up to slide up his shirt sleeve. Yes, Draco had played his part very well, because it was only two weeks before he'd wakened again, to find the blond kneeling beside the bed, refusing to meet his eyes, but clearly asking for something that only Blaise could give.

He'd refused—on principle—he was Slytherin after all, but he had also extended the invite for an undisclosed time in the future. He'd been entirely surprised when Draco had returned—the following night. What had passed between them now grew serious as neither were neaive enough to think that such relations would come without consequences and so, they'd turned to their respective inheritances and began to find a way to plan a future together.

Draco had mentioned, offhandedly, that perhaps they might inform their Head of House as to their ideas, in hopes that he might be of some help, if only to stall Lucius, but Blaise had declined, stating that he hid behind no one. Draco had smirked and said he'd expected it. Blaise had hexed him, then tied him to the bed and had his lovely wicked way with his very willing, self-satisfied lover.

Now, the parchment rolled up, pressed against his wrist, between wand holster and fabric sleeve, had produced a heavy weight on his chest, much like the guilt that had briefly passed over him after that fateful night. He finally made up his mind to write a letter to Draco and see what his other half thought. There was no real sense in making a move just yet, after all, the letter had mentioned something about multiple proposals and that if enough were excepted, then his own would crumble away to nothing.

He had to admit that he didn't see anything wrong with that.

At present, he had everything he could desire and more in Draco Malfoy. A blood dragon was nice, but not what he was interested in, at the moment.

* * *

When Draco Malfoy received a tiny scrap of parchment sealed with purple wax, he perked a brown at the tawny owl who had delivered it, then inclined his head in mock ceremony towards the gilded owl perch and neatly arranged snacks laid out by the Malfoy house elves. He'd taken the missive, read it once, twice and then a third time before igniting the irritating piece of parchment.

Shoulders hunched forward, he'd thrown himself into the chair behind his father's desk and sulked like the sixteen year old that he was. Why did it always have to be bloody Blaise Zabini? He resisted the urge to put his feet up on the neat, clean surface of his father's antique desk. He was allowed to share his father's study since said father fully expected him to follow in his steps as a stellar death eater and brilliant politician.

Draco personally didn't have any real problem with either of those, well, perhaps with the Death Eater decree, as he had seen what it had done to his godfather and he was in no temperament to be controlled by another— _ever._  Well, except, maybe for Blaise, but only because he wanted it and only because it was Blaise and only because Blaise was the only one who had ever given him something like that without any strings attached, save for his honesty and sincerity.

Granted, he'd had to reach deeply inside of himself for both qualities, but upon laying what bits of his black heart were his to call his own, he was rewarded when the one pureblood heir he'd hoped wouldn't be his enemy, agreed to be his lover. They'd eventually sealed vows under moonlight, through an intimate exchange of certain, ah,  _things_  and it made Blaise's missive all the more worrisome.

Yes, they had chosen a borderline dark ritual—everyone expected it of Slytherins, so it wasn't a problem if they were caught—and it did do exactly as it had said, but it was more the fact that their secret was exactly that. A secret. No one knew. In fact, Blaise had been absolutely adamant about that.

After meeting Lady Zabini, Draco had understood the need—somewhat, but he'd also begun hinting to his mother that there was someone in his life he was interested in, to keep her from searching out another suitable—or in this case, an unsuitable—hand in marriage for him. It wasn't really a matter of the heart or any of that ridiculous twaffle, but Draco did admit to himself that he'd never expected to find what he'd needed in someone so like himself. And most certainly, he hadn't thought himself to be particularly inclined toward one gender or the other.

Blaise had a way of simply turning his neatly ordered world on its head and it made him grumpy in all sorts of ways. Draco scowled and sulked some more, then he called for a house elf to bring his writing set from his room and mentally began to compose a reply to said bothersome lover in his head.

When the note was finished, he handed it off to the patient, tawny owl with a terse word for the animal to be quick about it. He'd then had his writing set returned to his room, a strong cup of tea and some ginger newts rummaged up and then, he'd taken his tea by the study fireplace and congratulated himself on a spot of perfection.

While the Malfoy name wasn't exactly neutral, the Zabini name was. Blaise had been quite clear on maintaining it as such and in the end, Draco had humored him, realizing that there was more behind the reason than he could properly be trusted with—yet. He would simply have to bide his time until Blaise thought he deserved to know. It did rankle him, somewhat, but patience was a virtue and perhaps, the only one he could stand to think of cultivating.

* * *

Blaise was still pacing the length of the owlery when his owl returned. He had a wan smile for the gentle creature that had put up with him all these years and now, it nipped at his fingers in affection as he reached for the answering message. He opened the fancy square of parchment and felt his lips give the usual involuntary twitch that he was unable to suppress when it came to Draco.

Smirking to himself, he folded the sheet back, fed his owl a treat and turned to retrace his steps to the Slytherin dorms. He paused at one point to prick his finger and scribble an answer on the proposal parchment from Dumbledore. He watched, with satisfaction, as the parchment shimmered, accepting the answer and the paper crumbled away to golden-hued dust before his very eyes.

A nearly wistful look skittered briefly over his face and he looked down at the other piece of parchment, Draco's reply to his question. It brought the smile back to his face and he continued on, wondering if he had time to see to a few things before Draco's return. Lord Malfoy had sent for him, pulling a few strings to wrangle the permission needed to portkey his son home for a day.

The square of paper in his pocket burned faintly, tingling of warmth and Draco's familiar fiery brand of magic. Blaise rolled his shoulders back and kept on walking, the smirk still playing about his lips. His mind had begun to wander down several pleasurable pathways and he enjoyed the stimulation, feeling more relaxed now than he had all day.

_B — if you honestly believe I would answer such an insipid question, you are clearly lacking possession of the mental faculties I once imagined in you. The pact we made was binding in every way. You are an insufferable arse plagued by the misfortune of belonging to me. I should think you would know about Malfoys and their favored things. Destroy that ridiculous proposal_ before  _I return, else I shall be forced to resort to unpleasantries._

— _Sincerely, Draconis Lucius_  Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was Blaise's chapter. I could not write Ron's or Hermione's for the life of me, so I ended up doing his own instead. Welcome to all the new readers and lurkers. I hope you continue to enjoy this fic. I am still updating/working on it, just taking a bit longer to get back to some of them. I think it will remain as one of my least complicated fics for the time being, but I do reserve the right to change it in the future.
> 
> For everyone who wanted Blaise with Samara and the others, I did not plan for him to join them, but he will be present as a character/perhaps friend on the sidelines. This chapter is realistic in that not everyone would have accepted the proposal and being a young Slytherin, Blaise doesn't care to share, hence his exclusivity with Draco.
> 
> Thank you for reading and the kind reviews/favs/alerts.
> 
> ~Scion


	7. Hermione Thinks In Circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter one for warnings/disclaimer/summaries. Every chapter will focus on a different character, i.e. (Luna, Severus, Harry, etc.)
> 
> PREVIOUSLY: Dumbledore handed out proposal scrolls from a magical creature(a Blood Dragon) to several individuals, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Luna has accepted her letter and left that very night, when Samara arrived. Harry has made plans to leave the following night. Ron and Hermione have not decided as yet. Severus spent the night testing the authenticity of the letter before deciding that he will accept and reviews the changes this will bring to his life over breakfast. Minerva has decided to accept her proposal after thinking about it overnight. She notices Severus is in a good mood, but tunes him out, thinking of what she must do before she can accept.

 

Hermione sat on her bed, clutching the letter to her chest, unable to process the reality for the second night in a row. She'd barely made it through the day, aware that things were off, but unable to fix it any more than she could put a name to it. She was stunned, to put it mildly, especially when her mind tried to wrap around the reality that  _Ron_ , her Ron, was accepting the same proposal that she had been offered. Since when had the messy redhead become  _her_  Ron, she didn't know. She hadn't noticed. Now that she was able to process beyond that, her heart ached.

It tore her apart in ways she wasn't ready to acknowledge before, but now had no choice. Yes, their personalities were so opposite that it was quite unlikely they would ever make a good couple, much less a compatible life partner for each other, but she'd still hoped and dreamed. After all, there was Harry, but he didn't have the same fiery pull that Ron had. At least, she'd never considered him as that. He'd always been a friend, a close friend, a brother—the sibling she'd never had.

Now, she suppressed another shudder as her eyes prickled with stubborn tears that she refused to shed. Now even Harry was in on this, it seemed, she'd caught the look he'd sent to Ron, before disappearing up into his room. She had seen that haunted, hunted look in his eyes before and while there was nothing she'd been able to do to make the awful look go away, Harry had managed to banish it before and he would do it again. She'd seem him as he gathered himself together—every single piece—and continued to persevere. He was a survivor and he would always survive.

Today had been a brilliant example.

When they'd had breakfast that morning, she'd worked up the nerve to ask him what he'd thought about the proposal and whether he'd really accept something like that. She'd been careful to put up a muffling spell too—so that the conversation would at least be private—but Harry had only turned to give her a single look.

It had frozen her heart in her chest for one horrible, terrible moment and then, something in his eyes had changed, his emerald gaze had flickered up to the Head Table and then he'd turned away and carefully filled his plate with the familiar items of dry toast, a single omelet and slices of fresh fruit. He had a steaming cup of black tea with plenty of sugar poured into it and just drinking the beverage had eased one of the furrows in his thin brow.

When she'd reached for his arm, he'd shied away, just enough for her to know that the touch wasn't welcome at the moment. She'd felt her face burn, hands dropping to twist in her lap as he'd answered the question in the way she hadn't dared to phrase it. He had no one, he'd told her, absolutely no one at all and here was an offer that seemed like something out of a fairytale.

Someone who wanted him, who promised to love him—or do a decent enough job of it—and would provide for him, not relying on his fame or his name or anything, who didn't even know about his reputation or prophecies and all of that rot. Someone who simply wanted him because he had compatible magic and nothing else. It promised friendship that could lead to fondness and perhaps, from there, even to love, after all, wasn't that how real love lasted?

"But Harry, wanting you for your magic is just as-"

And there, Harry had turned on her, eyes flashing, a sorrow so deep and great in his eyes that she'd swallowed and sat back, leaning ever so slightly away. If all they wanted from him was his magic, that was fine, he'd told her. They could have it. That's all anyone else had ever wanted of him anyway. Magic had caused more trouble in his life up to now than anything else, if someone needed his magic before they could love him, that was fine. He'd gladly give it, because at least, if he had love, if he had stability, if he had someone who honestly cared—the magic was the least of his worries. There were people who wanted him for his fame, his scar and his face—and nothing else. His magic was nothing in this case, he'd gladly give it up.

At that, Hermione had found herself sitting alone when he'd vacated the bench, scooping his egg onto his toast in a makeshift sandwich, before piling the fruit slices in with it. He'd wrapped it in a napkin and bolted from the Great Hall. She wouldn't see him until they were in classes and when she tried to apologize, he'd only shake his head and look away.

She'd worried that Ron would be the next one to turn on her, after all, Harry was stubborn yes, but Ron had that down to an art form. But to her own surprise, it was Ron that managed to even out the awkwardness between them. It was his exasperated elbowing between them to return to their friendship to something resembling the earlier days of their friendship.

When she went to bed that night, an odd feeling lingered in the back of her mind as if something had been off the entire day. The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her and so she scrunched up her pillow and rolled over, trying to find a way to sort out the mess in her head. She had taken her usual detour to the library, a place that often provided some semblance of safety and security, after all, books didn't lie.

Then again, she really hadn't been able to find anything about Blood Dragons in the library and there was no Professor Lockhart to trick into signing a permission slip for her this time. She had almost asked Madame Pince, but then she'd taken one look at the sour-faced woman and found herself unable to formulate a single question beneath that hawk-eyed stare.

Ron had spoken to her at length the night before about all that he knew of Blood Dragons and what his family had told him—or at least what he was willing to share as he'd gone a few shades of red during his retelling of things and her need to know more information than he was willing to give. She didn't see anything embarrassing about it, but then again, it was Ron and wizards could be terribly old-fashioned about some things.

The whole notion of arranged marriage rankled in a way she hadn't expected it would. Technically, it was more of a marriage proposal and she was under no obligation to accept, but the way that both Ron and Harry had been acting had her thinking that they were seriously considering accepting it. She rolled onto her back with a growl of frustration.

It figured. They were boys. The idea of some primitive dragon girl was probably very exciting for them. Ron had said that most blood dragons were rather beautiful in their human forms, but her mind had ground to a halt at the idea of a dragon and then of what that would entail. She didn't want to think about that.

But boys had their little moods and surely they wouldn't be stupid enough to take a chance on something that was so unusual and potentially dangerous, there was no real proof that Blood Dragons existed, at least, not anywhere near enough proof for her and Hermione knew how to research, it was the mark of her genius that her brilliant parents had handed down to her. She folded her arms over her chest and stared up at the canopy of her bed.

Today had been strange.

She'd simply have to give it another try with Harry and Ron in the morning. She was sure she could convince them to come around to her way of thinking. The scroll was fake. There was no way it could be real. There was nothing in the world that could be that good.

First rule of life, there's no such thing as a free lunch.

Her parents had taught her that and she'd taken it to heart, a lesson learned well.

With a sigh, Hermione turned and buried her head half under her pillow. She wished she'd thought ask Madam Pomfrey for an extra phial of Dreamless Sleep. Usually it would help with her occasional extreme studying methods, but she'd taken the last bit last night after Ron's spiel about magic, dragons and the importance of blood purity. She hadn't ever expected any of that from him.

Not from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally got Hermione's chapter done. Urgh. I forgot how hard it was to write her. *sigh* I think I'm going make Hermione a bit more of a cautious, but smart bookworm with a quick wand. I'll also be having some more Golden Trio friendship, including Ron and Harry friendship as well-NO Romance between either of the three of them-but they will be friends still.
> 
> Welcome to all the new readers and lurkers. I hope you continue to enjoy this fic. I am still updating/working on it, just taking a bit longer to get back to some of them. I think it will remain as one of my least complicated fics for the time being, but I do reserve the right to change it in the future. ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading and the kind reviews/favs/alerts. Merry Christmas!
> 
> ~Scion


	8. Ron's Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter one for warnings/disclaimer/summaries. Every chapter will focus on a different character, i.e. (Luna, Severus, Harry, etc.)
> 
> PREVIOUSLY: Dumbledore handed out proposal scrolls from a magical creature(a Blood Dragon) to several individuals, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Luna has accepted her letter and left that very night, when Samara arrived. Harry has made plans to leave the following night. Severus and Minerva have decided to accept as well. Blaise has declined, as he is with Draco.

 

Ron lay awake in his bed, steepling his fingers over his chest and thinking of the letter he'd dashed off to his Mum while in history of magic class. He'd been sure to sneak it in when Hermione wasn't watching, because she'd been acting weird all morning and he didn't really want to know what had sent her off on that kind of a tangent.

Hermione was always steady and sure, seeing her off-kilter was like an itch he couldn't scratch. He wondered, briefly, if it was the conversation about the Blood Dragons the night before, then shook it from his head. He'd tried to explain things and he'd even remembered some of the same examples his Mum had used when she'd told him. Hermione was smart. She wouldn't be puzzling over something that he'd already explained. He'd done a very good job of it, if he did say so himself. She was probably already thinking about the end of the year exams for which he was hoping he would not have to take this year.

To accept the proposal would mean leaving school and he was eager for that particular detail to become a reality. Learning wasn't regulated to books and standardized tests, after all, it was what you learned and how you learned it and whether you honestly wanted to learn it. Those happy thoughts floated around inside of his head and Ron smiled up at the canopy on his bed. He did better as a hands-on student, learning from classes that were more practical and less bookwork—not that the bookwork didn't have its place, because it did—but he was happier when he could be moving and trying things out for himself. He would definitely be looking forward to that detail.

A sudden thought registered and he peeked out from behind the curtains, looking out through their dorm room to check that everyone was asleep or at least at their bed-curtains were drawn. His gaze then flickered over to the bed that he knew best. Yes, the curtains were drawn. Ron nearly smiled, then slid out from the warm blankets, before tip-toing over to Harry's bunk. He tapped it, twice, their own little code now, waiting for him to respond. After a moment, a bleary-eyed, messy-haired Harry poked his head out and he squinted up at Ron. "Ron? What-?"

"Shh!" Ron nudged him back and after a moment, slipped in around the curtains to perch on the edge of Harry's bed. "I just had to ask, Harry, because—well, I just had to ask." He hesitated for a moment, hands clenching in his lap and he squared his jaw and look up at his best friend. "Are you accepting that proposal?" He watched Harry grow unnaturally still and then a hint of clarity register in those brilliant green eyes, a look he knew and recognized quite well from their adventures together. This was the brilliance of the true Boy-Who-Lived—who honestly hated that moniker—deciding whether he could trust the person before him with the choice he'd made. Deciding to give him a hint, Ron spoke up so they would both be on the same page. "I-I've already sent off my letter to Mum, you know, telling her about it and everything." Ron looked at the bed curtains and fingered the edge of the fabric. He wasn't sure he could look Harry in the eye, but he didn't think he could stand not to, either. "I've said yes." He said, firmly.

Harry's shoulders half-slumped in relief and he lurched forward, hugging Ron, awkwardly.

Ron found his eyes mysteriously blurry for a moment and then he returned the awkward hug, before they pulled away, unable to keep looking each other in the eye for the moment. That was good news. That was brilliant news, actually. He'd hoped and he'd taken something of a gamble, but he also hadn't wanted to leave Harry and Hermione behind. Something told him, deep down inside, that Hermione most likely would not accept—she was muggleborn and sometimes the beliefs they came with, couldn't be overturned. "I take it you did too, huh?"

Harry cracked a smile. "You know what it's like," he said, softly. Ron did know and that was one of the reason that Harry treasured him as such a dear friend. "You've heard the kind of nightmares I have."

Ron swallowed and nodded. He had. Some of them ranked right up there in sounds and things that he dearly wished he had never heard before in his life. Hearing Harry scream was something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Things that shouldn't happen to people like Harry, good people who had to do hard things, because there were no other options. Perhaps this Blood Dragon would give them the edge they needed.

"They've heard them too." Harry's smile didn't touch his eyes now, as the light dimmed and he remembered the most recent bout of night terrors he'd had while at the Dursleys. "They'll shout at me to be quiet, not to wake the neighbors and a few times, he hit me hard enough that I blacked out. Apparently I was still screaming when he woke me and that wasn't acceptable." Harry sucked in a breath, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I'm not a charity case. I'm not—someone who needs a—I never wanted anything from them. I wouldn't have cared if they really l-loved me or not. I just would've preferred if they didn't hate me." Thin shoulders hunched forward and Harry leaned back into his pillow. "I guess that was just too much to ask though?"

"It's their loss," Ron said, fiercely. He hated seeing that sad look in Harry's eyes. "They're loss and they'll never know what they're missing."

Harry half-smiled. "Thanks, Ron. See you tomorrow, eh?"

Ron began to slide off the bed. He reached for the curtains before he remembered his original reason for coming over. "When are you leaving?"

There was a pause and then Harry's head appeared from beneath the blanket. The sharp look was back in his green eyes as he seemed to be considering his words. "…tomorrow."

A moment of silence hung between them. "Tomorrow when?" Ron heard himself say. That was sooner than he'd be able to leave, but he supposed it made sense. Harry didn't have family ties to sever the way that he did. Not that he could ever completely forget his Mum, Dad and annoying gaggle of siblings. He'd have to see them all in person, at least once, before he could leave them. He would not, however, begrudge Harry the option of leaving early.

Harry snorted. "Tomorrow—after breakfast. Guess I'll see you soon?"

Ron grinned. "Can't leave on an empty stomach." He flicked a hand at the blanket-covered lump that was Harry's knee. "I'll see you soon." He agreed. "Can't set a date 'til Mum and Dad know everything and they'll want to come up and say goodbye or have me stop in or something. I don't know. I'll be the first one, you know? Not even Bill's done it yet and he's got Fleur." Ron paused. "You tell Hermione?" He almost didn't want to ask, but he couldn't help it.

The blankets rustled, Harry twisted them in his hand. "Not yet."

"Tell her. If she accepts—and if she doesn't—just tell her." He straightened up. Hermione would probably have a weird meltdown or something and he didn't want to be the one to share Harry's news—not when he had news of his own to share anyway. "Night Harry."

"…night Ron."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally got Ron's chapter done. It was tricky to write him, but I think I managed to hit the points I was aiming for. Since I have a dumb Ron in all my other fics, I thought I'd try my hand at a nice, smart, caring Ron. LOL. We should be cycling around to the characters again, so that means Luna is next. Thanks for reading and the kind reviews/favs/alerts.
> 
> ~Scion


	9. Luna's Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter one for warnings/disclaimer/summaries. Every chapter will focus on a different character, i.e. (Luna, Severus, Harry, etc.)
> 
> PREVIOUSLY: Dumbledore handed out proposal scrolls from a magical creature(a Blood Dragon) to several individuals. Luna accepted her letter and left that very night, when Samara arrived. Harry made plans to leave the following night. Severus and Minerva have decided to accept as well. Blaise has declined, as he is with Draco. Ron is accepting and Hermione is undecided.

 

Luna twitched as her warm cocoon shifted ever so slightly and bit back the sleepy murmur of protest that wanted to slip past her lips. Instead, she stretched, luxuriating in the nice warm spot left for her as she roused herself to the land of the waking. The now familiar scent of cherry blossoms and a hint of vanilla, tickled at her nose and Luna peeked open one eye to see if Samara was still in the room.

"Up yet, dearheart?" Samara's warm voice came from the opposite end of the room.

Luna rolled over at once, propping herself up with one elbow to watch this now familiar routine. Samara stepped out from the en suite, toweling her thick hair with one hand and entirely naked, droplets of water still clinging to her smooth, tanned skin. "Morning," Luna said, cheerfully.

"Morning," Samara crossed the room to lean over and share a morning kiss. Her breath was minty and warm, the kiss soothing and sweet. "Sleep well?" She stroked a hand down Luna's sleep rumpled hair, smoothing it back to tuck behind her ear, before brushing gently against her cheek.

"Mmhm." Luna leaned into the touch, sitting up fully as Samara moved away. She stretched, lazily, as the sheets fell away from her own bare form. "What are we doing today?" The previous morning they'd gone for a run and then set about settling Luna's affairs. She had been able to visit her father, who was both thrilled and sad to know that she'd finally reached this stage of maturity in her life. He'd wished her well and blessed them both, offering the small dowry he'd saved since her mother's death.

Samara had not refused it and Luna had smiled when she saw the look of pride on her father's face. The dowry had included a wedding box from her Mum and though she hadn't been able to open it just yet, she was glad to have it. Of course, with all of that, it turned out to be something of an emotional evening and she was quite glad that she did not have to spend the night alone. They'd had an enjoyable night together and at one point, Samara had told her that some of the others had accepted her proposal.

"A bit of dueling, I think." Samara tossed the towel over to the laundry hamper and strolled over to the full-length mirror beside the dresser. "You said you wanted to know at least a few protective spells before we started 'porting all over the place?" One of the first points she'd made absolutely clear to her beautiful Ravenclaw witch, was the necessity of strength and power. If Luna had her strengths, then she'd learn to strengthen her weaknesses as well and in addition to that, she would be learning.

The blonde head nodded, eagerly. "I would very much like to."

"And so you shall." Samara smiled. "Your heart's wish is my desire." She paused, tapping a finger along the side of her jaw. "It should not take long for you to catch on. You are a very quick study. We'll take about, say, an hour or two, perhaps? Then there is paperwork that needs to be filed."

"Before breakfast?" Luna slipped off the bed and rolled her neck around to the side. She stretched forward to touch her toes and then straightened up, swinging her arms to the side.

"It's best to practice them on a very empty stomach," Samara said, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Trust me on this."

Luna smiled back, feeling a tendril of warmth curling happily in her belly. It was nice to hear praise from such lovely lips. It was nice to hear the praise—period. Samara was not generous with her words, but what she did say, counted very much in Luna's eyes already. "If you say so." She teased back. "I guess I can survive."

"I would never deprive you of a decent meal," Samara threw a fond look over one shoulder. "I assure you of that."

"I know," Luna said, simply. "I know." She twirled a strand of white-blonde hair around one finger, smiling when she felt her radish earrings tickle her ears. "Who is coming first?"

"The answer is the same as last night," Samara said, calmly. "I don't know."

"No one replied this morning?"

"I imagine they are all asleep," there was teasingnote in her voice. "Or at work or otherwise engaged."

"Did you—I mean, would have-" Luna paused. She sucked in a deep breath. "Did you ask anyone else at Hogwarts?"

"I did," Samara said, calmly. Another moment, passed. "You may ask who, if you like."

"That's fine," Luna said, lightly. "I'll see them when they arrive."

"Indeed you would," Samara turned to look at her, a new warmth in her eyes. She'd read something in Luna's light dismissal and intended to see it straightened out before any others joined them. This special point in her life would not be marred by jealousy or insecurity—not when it was within her grasp to set things to rights. "I believe the first addition is a very special young man, perhaps you may know him."

"Oh?" Luna watched as Samara gestured with one hand and any trace of her shower melted away to dry skin and neatly straightened hair. A smattering of rich scarlet and suede colored scales rippled along the sides of her torso and limbs, covering her back entirely. "Who?"

"Harry Potter."

"Harry?" Luna froze. She almost didn't dare to verify it. "You asked Harry?"

"I did. He accepted."

Luna felt a smile beginning to tug at her lips.

"Friend of yours?" Samara asked.

Luna's shoulders quirked up in a half-shrug. "He was always very kind," she said, at last.

"Good. I am glad." Samara said, simply. "You do know that you can come to me with anything, dearheart?"

"You need them," Luna said, quietly. "I couldn't complain. You've already been very good to me."

"That does not mean that you have no voice or opinion, dearest." Samara leaned into the mirror, examining something along her lower jawline. "You are more than welcome to speak up or speak out and I assure you that I will always listen. You are important. All of you will be important and unique in your own ways."

Luna didn't answer. She simply watched for a moment longer, before she realized that Samara was almost done with her routine. "Can't I do your hair?" She asked, quickly, before the clothing spell completed itself.

Samara blinked in surprise and paused in her silent casting. After a moment, she shrugged and turned to face her bonded lover, as the last bit of the spell washed over her, dressing her comfortable slender trousers and a sleek blouse in her favored colors of crimson and black. A flared overcoat settled over it all and a golden buckled utility belt of sorts. Her boots appeared last, her own dragonhide, with a low heel that was just perfect for her usual adventures.

Walking over to the bed—which was neatened up with a simple snap of her fingers—Samara perched on the edge and tilted her head back. Luna immediately scrambled back onto the bed and scooted around to where she sifted her hands through the silken strands. This was one of the few things she'd missed, especially when she thought of her mother. None of the other Ravenclaws cared to look at her as anything more than an empty-headed annoyance, so she'd never found a friend for this particular girlish pastime.

Her mother had always said that braiding a friend's hair was a way to weave protections into them, according to the strength of your friendship. To do so with a lover's hair, suggested that one could add more love and strength to the relationship, so it would last for many years. Luna did not want to pass up the chance, whether it was true or not. She'd prefer to believe it was true. Her hands, small and delicate, deftly worked through the hair that was a lovely brown-to-black color, twisting, wrapping and twining into an elaborate five strand braid that stopped just above Samara's waist. "Done." She said, softly.

Samara turned, warmth glittering in her dark eyes as she gently gathered Luna into her arms, pulling her onto her lap and thanking her with a kiss. The gesture said more than words could have at that point. Luna smiled into the soft press of lips on her own and hummed happily. The spell practice could wait—just a minute.

After all, Luna was a  _very_  quick study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Luna's chapter is a bit short, but there's not much more that can happen for her until I get some other characters involved, so hang in there. Harry should be next, I think, if I keep the order of characters so far. Sorry for the long wait! I meant to post this sooner, but RL has been giving me quite a headache. Thanks for reading and the kind reviews/favs/alerts. (and welcome to the lurkers!)
> 
> ~Scion

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net


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